Disclaimer: The O.C. is property of Fox.
Author's Note: It's another yeti of a chapter. I did say the end was nigh-ish. It's now more nigh than ish.
Kirsten drummed her fingers on the work surface as she tried to gather her thoughts. Seth and Sandy should have been back with Ryan by now and although she knew that it was traffic not tragedy this time that was keeping them, she could feel herself getting more twitchy with each passing minute. The phone didn't have seemed to have stopped ringing from the moment she had walked in the door an hour and a half earlier, which hadn't particularly helped her gradually easing hangover but had least taken her mind off it temporarily. So far she'd taken calls from Trey and an inordinately feisty girl by the name of Theresa, both of whom seemed to have the inside scoop on Ryan's exploits.
When Kirsten agreed to accept the collect charges on Trey's call for the second time in two days, she was fully prepared to let him have it with both barrels, until she heard the lingering silence at the other end of the phone. When Trey eventually spoke, it was with a voice so small and uncertain that reminded her so much of Ryan in dejected mode it was almost eerie. When she'd told him about what had happened to his little brother, she could have sworn that he was close to tears and barely keeping a lid on his emotions. It had struck her for the first time how hard it must be for Trey to having to surrender Ryan to her Sandy and Seth; to rely on the kindness of strangers for his keeping. As much as Hailey could exasperate her and as much as she'd sometimes wished she had remained an only child, Kirsten loved her little sister unconditionally. Sure, she wished she grow up a little, or call more often, or not take so much pleasure in embracing the role of baby of the family, but she couldn't switch off her affection for her and doubted she ever would be able to. And that was just fine. It made for the occasional restless night, but just as with caring for Seth, Sandy and now Ryan too, looking out for Hailey was one responsibility Kirsten was content to call her own.
Kirsten would have laid good money down that Trey felt the same way about his little brother and despite the initial animosity she had felt towards him, somehow she'd ended up reassuring him that Ryan was going to be fine and that she would encourage him to call Trey at his first opportunity. Twenty minutes later and the luxury of space to think had not altered her intentions of keeping her promise. Theresa, however, had been a little harder to satisfy and although her concern was clearly heart-felt, she had sworn to call back every few hours until she had spoken to Ryan. Although Kirsten suspected it was because Theresa didn't trust Ryan to call her, rather than not trusting Kirsten to pass on her message, there was no doubt in Kirsten's mind that Theresa would hold true to her word.
Despite her determination to be positive, Kirsten was nevertheless worried about what the political ramifications of the last twenty-four hours were going to be. Quite apart from Ryan's physical condition, she was also concerned about how the community she called home was going to react. Not for herself, of course, but despite Julie Cooper's best efforts the citizens of Newport had finally caught on to the fact that Ryan wasn't going anywhere, and that the Cohens were not perhaps as straight laced as the Caleb Nichol would have them believe. Oh, God, her dad was going to go ballistic. And just when he'd finally started occasionally referring to Ryan by his name instead of merely "the boy", as if he were a school project instead of a sixteen-year-old with no family and no home to call his own. Kirsten didn't think she could bear to let Ryan be the subject of idle gossip of Newport's self selected aristocracy once again, not when he had worked so hard not to make ripples for herself and Sandy. Kirsten sighed and made a conscious effort to snap out of it. She had learned a long time ago that ultimately, people thought what they wanted to think and there was very little you do about it except keep an open mind and try and encourage others to do the same. She'd deal with the Stepford Wives if or when Ryan's misadventures became an issue, for now, she shifted her focus back to her family.
As if on cue, the front door opened and the sound of Seth's incessant chatter drifted in through the hallway to the kitchen.
"Honey, I'm home," Sandy's voice rang out, as she came out to meet them.
"Hi there," she said, greeting her husband with a kiss, "I was beginning to wonder where you guys had got to."
"Hey, don't look at me," said Seth, ducking simultaneously with Ryan as his mother ruffled their hair in hello, "I said we should just click our heels three times, but you know Dad; can't resist an opportunity to take the scenic route."
"Seth," said Sandy, his voice betraying his weariness as he set Ryan's collection of pharmaceuticals down on the table, "Can you take it down a notch?"
"Sorry," Seth replied, recognizing his father's fatigue and settling down. Sandy sighed.
"It's fine. Just been a long day."
Ryan plunked himself down in a chair at the kitchen table, "You're telling me."
"You okay, Ryan?" asked Kirsten, trying not to sound like a clucking hen.
"Fine. Just... tired," he said, slightly embarrassed by having everyone's attention on him.
"So, round here we have a tradition," said Sandy, breaking the quiet, "Whenever a wounded hero- or heroine- returns to the manor, they get to pick what we have for dinner. Your choice kiddo."
The kiddo in question looked down, his face growing hot as he sensed the Cohen's eyes on him, "Uh I don't know," he said, mentally kicking himself for getting squirmy over something as simple as dinner.
"Seriously," said Sandy, trying to sell Ryan on the idea, "Anything you want. Except Kirsten's cooking."
"Hey!" she exclaimed indignantly.
"Do you want to cook, Mom?" asked Seth pointedly.
"Not particularly," Kirsten admitted before adding, "But I would. If Ryan would like me to. Wounded hero's prerogative."
Ryan looked skeptical. "This is tradition?" he asked, appreciating the sentiment, but seriously doubting that any of the Cohens had ever smashed themselves up as badly as he had.
"You've hooked up with quite a klutzy family," Sandy said, trying to keep the mood light.
"Hey Dad, you know these things come in threes," teased Seth.
"Don't say that," added Kirsten before turning to Ryan, "So what's it going to be?"
"Something I can eat with one hand," he replied after a moment's thought. Under no circumstances was he going to suffer the humiliation of someone helping him cut up his food; Seth would be teasing him for months.
"Are you sure?" Kirsten asked, " 'Cause I could order from that Spanish place you like..." trailing off as Ryan shrugged amiably, "Seriously, that's all? No other requests?"
"Nah, really," he said with a grin in Seth's direction, "I just think I'd like to eat until I pass out."
"Done," said Sandy relieved Ryan seemed to be in good spirits.
"I feel so proud," proclaimed Seth, clasping a hand to his heart.
"'Scuse me!" Ryan said, yawning spectacularly as a wave of tiredness washed over him.
"Dude," said Seth, as he grabbed a glass of water from the side, "You've been asleep like all morning."
"I know," Ryan said, his weariness suddenly catching up with him, "Do you guys mind if I hit the sack for a bit?"
"Not at all," said Sandy, suppressing a yawn of his own, "In fact, I think I might do the same."
"Cool," said Ryan standing up slowly, wincing slightly at the ache in his arm and side.
"Do you want to crash on the sofa?" asked Kirsten, suspecting he wouldn't but privately hoping he would.
"Nah, I'm good," he said as he gathered up his prescriptions and slipped them inside his sling to carry them, "I just want to sleep in my own bed, you know?"
"Sure," replied Kirsten, "Just shout if you need anything."
"I will. Can I?" Ryan asked Seth, as he swiped his friend's glass of water from the side.
"And so it begins," Seth said sighing melodramatically.
"I'm taking that as a yes," Ryan said, smiling at Seth's theatrics, "We can talk about backrubs later."
"Still going for the funny. It's good to have goals," Seth mocked good-naturedly as Ryan headed out towards the pool house.
After a moment, he stopped and turned and looked at the three people who made Newport home. With all the sincerity he could muster, he simply said, "Thank you," before adding, "I'm really sorry."
Seth and Kirsten let Sandy answer for all three of them, "It's okay, Ryan. Just get some rest."
Ryan raised a small smile in response before departing, as appreciative as ever for Sandy's ability to read him in a way no one else ever could.
"Well, I'm going to bed," Sandy said finally, breaking the silence that had settled on the scene, "You coming, honey?" he asked Kirsten as he headed out of the kitchen and towards his welcoming bed.
"Oh, absolutely," Kirsten replied, finally surrendering to the notion of sleep that had been wanting to claim her for the last eighteen hours. Seth took one look at his exhausted parents making their weary journey upstairs and yawned.
"Who am I kidding?" he muttered to himself before trudging after them, as visions of sugar plums began to waltz through his mind.
Five and a half hours later a slightly more wrinkled version of Ryan emerged from the pool house to find Seth and Kirsten preparing dinner in the kitchen.
"Hey," he said, pulling up a chair to the table.
"Look who's up," said Kirsten as she inefficiently chopped peppers into doorstep wedge circles, "How you feeling?"
"Better, thanks" replied Ryan, surveying the pair's culinary operation with interest, "We having pizza?" he asked hopefully.
"That okay?" asked Kirsten, her face screwed up in concentration as she tackled a fresh pepper with enthusiasm.
"Sounds great," he answered, realizing that mutant Jell-O aside he hadn't eaten since yesterday lunchtime.
"I hope you're hungry, man," said Seth, spreading tomato sauce carefully on pre-made bases as though he was a master cake decorator, "It's a whole one-handed feast. We've got pizzas, garlic bread, Dad's even prepared on some of his famous barbecue wings, it's going to be awesome."
"Sounds great," said Ryan, already beginning to suffer from phantom fragrance syndrome in anticipation.
"And there's dessert," Kirsten said proudly, as she finished chopping the peppers into more or less even slices and started on a pile of mushrooms, "I was going to make you a cake, but I decided you've been through enough so I just got in some doughnuts."
"Ohhhh, doughnuts," Ryan groaned, wickedly impersonating Homer Simpson.
"And lots of them," said Kirsten, laughing at his impression.
"Any apple filled?" asked Ryan hopefully before swiping a mushroom
"And raspberry jelly for Seth," Kirsten confirmed.
"World's best mom," said Ryan, unthinkingly, turning seven shades of scarlet as Kirsten paused in her chopping for the briefest of moments.
"Amen to that," said Seth, sensing Ryan's embarrassment and looping one arm around his mother in an affectionate hug, "She's a keeper. Heads up," he said, throwing another mushroom at Ryan.
"Hey, broken nose!" said Ryan as it bounced off his face.
"Seth, play nice," Kirsten admonished her son, smiling as Ryan teased him by pulling a wounded puppy look.
"Yes, Nanny," Seth replied, in his best Muppet Babies imitation.
"Can I help?" asked Ryan getting to his feet.
"No," said Kirsten firmly, "You just sit there. Relax."
"Yeah, you can do the dishes," Seth teased, ducking as Kirsten threw a mushroom at him, "Hey!"
"Where's Sandy?" asked Ryan, relieved to have a little normalcy after the last twenty-four hours.
"He had a few errands to run," said Kirsten opening a packet of pre-grated mozzarella cheese, "He should be back soon."
"So as promised, I pulled out my Megadrive, we can do retro this evening. Release a bunch a furry critters from the clutches of an evil scientist," said Seth scattering the cheese flamboyantly over the pizzas.
"We can try," said Ryan, scratching his cast in the hope that it would somehow cure the monstrous itch irritating his hand beneath it, grunting in frustration when it inevitably didn't.
"Itchy?" asked Kirsten somewhat redundantly, observing him.
"You have no idea," said Ryan, forcing himself to stop.
"Oh, I really do. I dislocated my knee skiing a few years back. I had a cast all the way up my leg and I thought I was going to kill someone."
"She was a nightmare," said Seth, with a distinct lack of sympathy, as Ryan smiled with the thought of Kirsten being forced to take it easy for six weeks, "Never stopped whining. Dad and I were this close to having her committed."
"Hey! At least I never attacked myself with a buzz saw in shop class," Kirsten shot back.
"There was no attacking. There was possible a little impatience on my part... you make me sound like Ed Gein," Seth feigning exasperation, "And just so you know, it was a beautiful job, I got the cast off without a drop of blood being spilled."
"More luck than judgement," Kirsten said, turning to Ryan who was looking increasingly bemused, "He wanted to go on Harbor's freshman white-water rafting trip, two weeks after coming off his skateboard. Ended up with a cast all summer, instead of six weeks."
"Totally worth it. I was cool for like a whole five days," said Seth finishing off the pizzas, before adding proudly, "They called me Psy-Cohen."
"Better than Chino," said Ryan equally wowed and worried by Seth's exploits. Never mind a klutzy family, sometimes the Cohens bordered on the certifiable.
"Or Kiki," grunted Kirsten as she put the food under a covered net. As much fun as she was having, now dinner was all ready to go, she could no longer postpone the inevitable. "Seth, why don't you go set the table," she asked rhetorically.
"Because I'm having too much fun at your expense. Hey, Ryan, did you know that Mom got wasted last night?" he joked.
"You did?" asked Ryan, not knowing if Seth was kidding or not. Raising Kirsten's heckles further, Seth crossed his eyes and mimed vomiting, convincing him.
"Hey, Ryan, did you know that Seth got seduced and dismissed by two girls last night?" she said, fighting fire with fire and stony look.
"You did?" Ryan repeated, this time directing his question at Seth.
"Yeah..." Seth said sheepishly, hoping that would suffice. Ryan raised his eyebrows expectantly. After a moment, Seth gave in.
"While you were getting your James Dean on yesterday you missed quite the soiree; Anna and Summer came over, things got a little a little triangular in the romance department and they dumped me. I know, I know, je suis un idiot," he added, ducking Ryan's sidelong glance, "But you know as much as I'd love to walk you though the excruciating details, I have a table to set, so..." he said, departing to the dining room.
Left alone in the kitchen, Kirsten and Ryan regarded each other, awkwardly both knowing what conversation they needed to have and each unsure as to how to broach it. Finally, Kirsten's maternal instincts took over.
"It's beautiful out. Why don't we sit by the pool for a while?" she suggested, "The fresh air will be good for you."
"Sure," said Ryan, following her outside, squinting in the sunshine as he gingerly joined her at the patio table, knowing what was coming.
"So," Ryan said, awkwardly half-joking, "I guess you want to have 'the talk', huh?" He hoped that it would go better the last one, although the odds for that were certainly in his favor.
Kirsten had long ago learned to read Ryan's moods. Car-theft not withstanding, he was an honest person and more often than not this was reflected in a simple incapability to conceal his feelings. There was his usual state, what Kirsten privately nicknamed the Hockney; bright and easy-going, most often seen when he was in the company of Seth, lazing around the pool on loungers, or joining forces to annihilate fantastical beasts in some video game. This was almost indeterminable from Ryan's another of Ryan's moods, the Rothko; where he was pretending to be bright and easy-going, but was actually feeling quite downcast and wanted to be left alone. It had taken a while, but Kirsten had finally learned that Ryan's Hockney and Rothko could only be differentiated only by an inordinate fascination with his feet. Next up was Picasso and generally occurred when Ryan was homesick, feeling out of place or needed advice but unsure where to seek it. If Kirsten or Sandy didn't spot Picasso, as Sandy had failed to last night, it was often followed by Ryan's other mood, the Pollock, and then things got a bit messy. It had taken a while, but Kirsten believed she had got her ability to interpret Ryan's moods and understand his feelings down. Unfortunately, his thoughts still remained a mystery.
"I know you covered a lot of this with Sandy," said Kirsten, putting Ryan out of his misery, "So I'll make it quick. One question, honest answer."
" 'Kay," he said trying to sound more assured than he felt.
"Why did you do it, Ryan?" Kirsten asked gently.
Even though he had guessed what she had been about to ask him, Kirsten's question still stumped him. How could he possibly explain his relationship with Trey when he didn't even understand it himself?
"Because... I owed him," Ryan said eventually, making the realization only as the words tumbled from him. He looked over at Kirsten, trying to read her expression for clues, but he couldn't fathom it. Ryan made a mental note to himself never to play cards with her before continuing his jumbled explanation.
"I know you guys don't really like Trey, and I guess that's okay. Well, it's not, really, but I don't blame you," he said honestly, allowing himself to acknowledge how much Sandy and Kirsten's disapproval of his older brother hurt him. He lost his thoughts for a moment, as tried to focus on what Kirsten had asked him before continuing.
"Thing is, he always looked out for me; even when Mom... even when things at home were really bad. And they were getting worse. When we got busted, we weren't just doing it for kicks, he was trying to teach me something. Now Trey's going to spend the next three to five years living in a room that's the same size as my bathroom. And he'll be sharing. Because of me. Because I hesitated."
Ryan picked at the slightly frayed edges of his cast, reluctant to meet Kirsten's gaze, afraid she would offer platitudes in lieu of understanding.
"Arms heal," he said quietly before looking up, "I knew what I was doing."
"Good answer," Kirsten said after what seemed an unbearably long time, surprising both Ryan and herself. There wasn't much else she could say. She looked at the boy sitting next to her; his world-weary expression, his subdued body language and tired eyes.
"You're so old, Ryan," Kirsten said, without thinking. Ryan looked at her, a little thrown by her words and she hastily clarified her thoughts, "Things have been so different for you. It's hard sometimes to remember you're only sixteen. Seth, he feels something, he thinks something, he says it. But you? You're an enigma. We got it wrong yesterday; we should have come with you to see Trey and I'm sorry we didn't."
"I wish I'd called you," Ryan said, meaning it.
"So do I. And I'd be lying if I said I wasn't disappointed when I found out what happened. But mostly with us."
Kirsten's use of the word 'mostly' was like a knife to Ryan's heart. He knew within himself that he'd let her down, but to have it confirmed from her own lips hurt more than he would have believed possible.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
"I know, " said Kirsten, reaching out and taking his good hand in her own, "Me too."
Ryan sat quietly as she gently stroked small circles on the back of his hand with her thumb, wanting to say more, but unable to find the words. After all, Ryan had a point. She didn't like Trey. She definitely didn't like Dawn. Two days she'd given her fresh start with her son. Two whole days before abandoning him for a second time, this time not even leaving a note. Trey was the only family Ryan had left. No wonder he wanted to keep him safe no matter what the cost to himself.
"You know he called," Kirsten said, giving Ryan's a final squeeze before letting go, "Trey. I told him you'd call him back. He seems to care a lot about you."
"Yeah, he does," Ryan admitted, "His methods are a little screwy, but he'd do anything for me. I'd do anything for him."
"I think we've established that," Kirsten jested with a warm smile.
"I'll call him tomorrow. I don't think... I'm not quite ready," Ryan said, understating it. Truth was, he thought the emotional toll of talking to Trey tonight would probably land him back in the hospital.
"He'll understand," she reassured him, "I'm not too sure Theresa would," she added, amused by the way Ryan's head shot up, his eyes wide in a mixture of fear and surprise.
"Theresa? Called here?" he asked incredulously.
"Oh yes. She's... vivacious," said Kirsten with as much tact as she could muster.
"That's one word for it," Ryan said sarcastically.
"She told me to tell you that Arturo's breathing, but won't be after midnight unless she knows first hand that you are too."
"That's Theresa," Ryan smiled, wishing he could have eavesdropped on that conversation, "Subtle. I'll call her."
"I think that would be smart," Kirsten agreed. Theresa was one person from Chino she would like to have a chat with. Kirsten had a strong feeling that there wasn't a thing Ryan's feelings, thoughts, or mood-swings that Theresa didn't know. Kirsten sighed.
"So. That was 'the talk'," she said to Ryan, before adding wryly, "Was it good for you?"
"Better than Sandy's," he replied, wincing inwardly as his intended joke fell flat.
"I think this officially rates as the one of the lousiest Thanksgiving ever," Kirsten said, knowing what he was trying to do and helping him out.
"I've had worse," Ryan commented matter-of-factly.
"That's not particularly comforting, Ryan," Kirsten said, sensing he was shifting into Picasso mood again.
"That's not what I meant," Ryan said, stammering slightly, as he tried to get the words out, "I'm not a big talker."
"I'd picked up on that," Kirsten said kindly.
"If I don't tell you that stuff, it's not because I'm trying to cut you out, or because I'm in denial or anything. It's just I don't know how to. Anecdotes about holidays in the ER tend to be a real conversation stopper."
Kirsten understood how hard it was for Ryan to open up to her like this and waited patiently for him to continue, not wanting to jinx him into restless silence with an ill-timed cliché of comfort. Eventually, just as she was beginning to wonder if she'd missed her cue, he continued.
"Yesterday was horrible and not just 'cause of the all this," he said, waving a hand absently at his battered face, "But if I could go back and change it, I wouldn't. I think I kind of needed it. I miss Trey. I don't know what would have happened if we hadn't gotten caught, probably nothing good. But I can't go back to the way things were. Mom's gone. Chino's different; I think I'm different. What happened yesterday, and today, it made me appreciate what I've got. What you and Sandy and Seth have given me."
"Ryan, having you move in with us is the best thing that's happened to this family in a long time," Kirsten said without hesitation, both touched by Ryan's words and distressed at the sadness and confusion that emulated from the boy who uttered them, "We'd like to keep you in one piece."
"I'll second that," said Sandy as came over to join them, juggling a tray bearing a jug of lemonade, four glasses and an elaborately wrapped bright pink gift bag. He handed Ryan the gift bag, before kissing Kirsten hello, "Everything okay?" he asked subtly.
"Everything's fine," Kirsten said, holding a silent conference with Ryan, "We were just done."
"What's this?" asked Ryan, looking at the fancy pink bag that spewed ribbon and tissue paper. It was suspiciously heavy.
"Welcome home gift," said Sandy, pulling up a chair and pouring out the lemonade.
"For me?" he asked, not sure his return warranted the celebration that seemed to be sneaking up on him, but happy to go along with it all the same. Sandy nodded.
"Thank you," Ryan said as he attacked the ribbon with his teeth, before joking, "I should get maimed more often."
"That's not funny," lied Sandy as Seth came over, carrying a plate of chicken wings ready for grilling.
"Hey Dad, did you get it?" he asked seeing Ryan tackling the gift bag.
"I did indeed," Sandy said with a grin.
"Awesome. Project." Seth said as he fired up the grill.
"Oh, I know what this is," Kirsten said with a smile.
"Okay, now you guys are scaring me," Ryan said pulling out a bundle of tissue paper.
"Just open it," Sandy replied with a smile.
Ryan reached into the bag and pulled out two packs of nicotine gum. He looked witheringly at Sandy, "And I'm supposed to be the unfunny one round here?"
"You're welcome," Sandy said, laughing off Ryan's frosty glower, "Keep going."
Ryan dived back into the bag and pulled out a peak flow meter, "Hey, just what I always wanted!" he declared sarcastically setting it on the table next to the gum.
"I made an appointment with our family doctor for the end of the week, he wants you to keep a chart and take it with you."
"Lucky me," snarked Ryan, oddly enjoying Sandy's weird little gift package. Sometimes it was oh so clear where Seth got his nutty sense of humor.
"Hey, Ryan, you know what I was thinking?" said Seth as he spread the chicken wings across the grill, "Now that your dark wheezy secret is out in the open, this makes me the rugged one."
Ryan paused momentarily in his unwrapping to join Sandy and Kirsten in shooting Seth a skeptical glance. Seth pretended not to notice as he cheerfully continued with his cooking. "Oh yeah. I'm the tough guy in the family."
"Keep living the dream, Seth," chipped in Sandy as Ryan pulled out a tin of varnish and a thick bristled brush from the bag.
"Okay, now I'm confused," he said looking at it.
"It's a family recipe, handed down through generations," Sandy answered.
"It's varnish," deadpanned Ryan, "I have to tell you, I was kind of hoping for car keys."
"Trust me, Ryan, you're going to love it," Seth said, leaping klutzily back from the grill as the flames licked at the chicken wings.
"I'm going to have trust you on this, aren't I?" said Ryan suspiciously.
"Yes, you are," said Sandy raising a glass, "Don't worry, all will be revealed."
The smell of the Sandy's chicken wings began to float across from the grill, their warm and homely aroma filling Ryan's senses and triggering comforting memories of happier Newport family dinners past.
Kirsten handed a glass of lemonade to him and another to Seth, "To homecoming," she proposed. Ryan smiled and joined Seth and Sandy in raising his glass, a smile forming as they came together to clink their glasses.
"To homecoming."
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